Wendy awoke at daybreak, and saw Natalie's reddened eyes already looking at her. She stroked Natalie's hair again, and asked sympathetically, "How are you feeling, dear?" She was having a hard time reading Natalie's expression. Her jaw, trembling last night, seemed very firm, her lips pressed together in a line.

"Miss Wendy... I can't just sit back and wait. I have to do something. Is Master Tom going to the police station today?"

Wendy looked at her in surprise. "You'll have to ask him." She looked down at Tom, starting to stir on the mattress on the floor by the bed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.

Natalie looked past Wendy to Tom. "Master Tom, are you going to the police station today?"

He blinked his eyes and stretched. "Uhhh... I hadn't planned to. There's a lot of work to get done around here. Anyway, the police have a job to do. Natalie..." He sat up and looked at her, trying, like Wendy, to make something of her expression. "I want Clary back as much as you do. And I don't mean because we need her milk," he went on quickly as she opened her mouth. "She's my sister, and I love her. But the police know what they're doing. Let's give them a chance to do their job."

Natalie shook her head vehemently. "They don't know Clarissa like we do! They need us to tell them everything about her."

He bit his lip, trying to think how to say this. "I don't think Clary's... personality really comes into this. If she'd run off on her own, then sure, they'd need to know where she'd be likely to go. But she didn't have any... well, any choice in this. She's wherever the guy took her."

"But I saw him! Maybe they have pictures I can look at or something."

Wendy resumed stroking Natalie's hair. "But you didn't really see him, dear. He was wearing a mask."

"But... I..." She was crying again. "I just have to do something! Please, can't we just go? We don't have to stay long."

Tom opened his mouth, starting to say No, but made the mistake of looking at her again. The word shrivelled in his mouth as he saw her agonized, pleading look.

He looked away. "Okay. This afternoon. This morning we've got to milk the girls -- including you -- and I want to make some calls about getting a security fence. This afternoon we can go."

She smiled through her tears. "Thank you, Master Tom. And Miss Wendy, thank you SO much for being with me last night."

Wendy kissed her cheek. "I'll always be here when you need me."

"Don't say that!" She saw Wendy's sudden stricken look. "Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Wendy. I just... I thought Clarissa would always be here for me too." Her jaw thrust out still farther, and she seemed to be making a monumental effort not to let her crying get away from her.

Wendy pulled her towards her and hugged her. "I know, dear. I know."

Wendy let Natalie stay in bed while she went out to milk the girls, then returned to the house to milk Natalie. Afterwards she drew a warm bath for her in the bathroom tub, while she made her some breakfast -- scrambled eggs with some girlmeat sausage, a nicer meal than Natalie had had in a long time, and fed it to her as she stood in the kitchen. After finishing, Natalie closed her eyes as if in inner consultation.

"Wendy, thank you again. Really, I don't know... without you... you know..." She made a visible effort to rise to a more articulate level. "Could you... treat me like the rest of the girls now?"

Wendy bit her lip. "Do you want me to take you out to the barn?"

Natalie nodded.

Wendy knelt and gave her another hug, then stood. "Okay, let's go."

As soon as they entered the barn, Karen exclaimed, "Natalie, how are you?" The other girls rushed to the front of their stalls and greeted her. They'd spent the night together, and Wendy had taken them back to their proper stalls after the morning milking.

Wendy said, "She told me she wants to be out here," realizing they might have assumed Wendy was dumping her out here to get her off her hands.

Wendy started to move towards Natalie's and Clarissa's stall, and stopped as Karen shouted "Wendy!" She turned to look.

Karen looked exasperated. "Did she say she wanted to be in the stall by herself?"

Wendy gasped, wondering what she'd been thinking. "Well, umm, not exactly, no."

Monica said, "She could stay in here with us," the first of a half-dozen offers of hospitality.

Wendy looked down at Natalie, who nodded, giving Karen a tiny smile of gratitude.

Wendy saw the look. "Okay, let's do the usual rotation by seniority. Karen and Kirsten today." The other girls nodded, having anticipated the solution. Wendy unlocked their stall gate and led Natalie in, as Karen and Kirsten quickly scraped away a little of the food grain they'd managed to trail into the middle of the stall, using their hooves semi-effectively. Wendy locked Natalie's collar to the third overhead chain and knelt to give her a final hug.

Natalie rubbed her cheek against Wendy's. "Thank you, again. You'll come back for me this afternoon? Promise?"

Wendy nodded. "Promise. You girls take care of her, okay?" Karen and Kirsten both nodded, and Wendy locked the stall gate, waved goodbye to Natalie, and left.

Kirsten asked, "What was that about this afternoon?"

Natalie watched Wendy close the barn door and turned to Kirsten. "Master Tom is going to take me to the police station."

Karen padded over. "Did you remember some more stuff about the guy?"

Natalie bit her lip. "Umm... not exactly. But I think I can help."

Kirsten nodded. "I hope so. Anyway, what would you like to do? Want to watch some TV? Music?"

Natalie sighed. "I'm not up for game shows and stuff just now. You guys watch, though, it's okay. I'm just going to rest."

Kirsten kissed her on the cheek. "Sure, that's okay," as Karen ducked her head and clamped her teeth on the end of the sleeping pad, pulling on it to smooth out the fabric. Kirsten turned the sound down low on the TV, and she and Karen settled in to watch, while Natalie was soon asleep on the pad.

The girls insisted on staying together on the trip to fertilize the field. Wendy told Natalie she didn't have to go, but Natalie sighed and said she had to poop somewhere and it may as well be somewhere useful. It took longer doing it this way, Wendy gripping their leashes firmly and leading the entire group to various spots where a designated girl would deposit her feces; she couldn't get them to agree to separate. Maybe, they agreed, after Tom finished getting the new security fence installed.

Wendy bathed them all after they returned -- the milking stand would remain closed for the time being, so the new strategy of bathing the two girls working that day no longer applied. Tom came by the barn near the end of the bath. As Wendy finished drying Natalie, he asked her "You ready?" She nodded and followed him to the truck.

On the way into town, Natalie tried and failed to keep her mind off previous trips with Clarissa. Even spreading her legs far enough to keep her balance on the moving truck reminded her of Clarissa showing her how to do that, on that first trip out to the farm, and the memory brought with it a feeling of shame at the way she'd been acting back then.

She walked silently beside Tom as he led her into the police station. The deputy at the front desk nodded when Tom asked if Detective Warren was available, and picked up the phone to tell Warren he had visitors.

Warren emerged through the door behind the desk, shook hands with Tom and looked down at Natalie. "Did you remember something, Natalie?"

She bit her lip. "Not exactly. I thought maybe you had some pictures I could look at. Likely suspects, or something like that." She looked up at him hopefully.

"I thought you didn't see his face."

"Well, ummm... no, but maybe I could recognize his... body shape, you know? The way his shoulders look, his build."

Warren shrugged. "We've mainly got face shots, which probably aren't too useful." As her hopeful look faded, he went on, "You can look if you want. Of course, it could be a first-timer. Never done anything like this before. Somebody who just wanted a girlcow, for..." He hesitated. "For, uhh, his own purposes. We may not have..." He stopped as he heard her gasp.

She had totally forgotten him, but the idea of someone wanting a girlcow for himself reminded her. "Clarence!" She easily pulled his name from her memory, recalling its similarity to Clarissa's.

Warren's eyes narrowed. "Clarence who?"

"The first day at the milk stand! He was this guy who came by... He really had a thing for girlcows. I mean, you could see his hard-on through his pants! H-he milked Clarissa, and... could it be him?" She was almost hyperventilating.

"What was his last name?"

She winced. "He never said. He was kind of short..."

From behind Warren, the deputy suddenly said, "Small, kind of shy?"

"Yes, really shy! It was all he could do to get himself out of his car and come up to the stand!"

Warren spun his head to look at the deputy. "You know him, Floyd?"

Floyd scrunched his eyes tight in thought. "Shit, what was his name... It was a few weeks ago, sir, when I was on patrol duty. A Saturday. We got a call that some guy was hanging around one of the farms, ogling the girlcows. Me and Bill drove over there and talked to him. He wasn't doing anything, really, so we just told him to move along. Had him show his I.D. first... What was it... Newton! Clarence Newton."

"Where does he live?"

The deputy shook his head. "Sorry, sir, I don't remember that much. Just that he seemed like a funny little guy. Funny strange, I mean."

"We can check in the phone book." He turned back to Tom. "Mr. Martin, let me get back to my office and do some checking. It may take awhile, so don't feel you need to wait for me. I'm going to see if we've got anything on this Clarence guy."

Tom looked down at Natalie. "You still want to look at pictures?"

She nodded, too excited at the possibility there could be a suspect to speak.

Warren turned back to the deputy. "Floyd, show them where the mug books are."

"Yes, sir."

To Tom, he said, "I'll give you a call if I find out anything."

Nervously, knowing it wasn't the place of a slave to make such a request, but unable to stop herself, Natalie stammered, "C-c-could I be there when you bring him in?"

Warren looked at Tom. "Okay with me."

Tom thought about it. "We should get back home, but..." He caught Natalie's expression. He was always helpless against that look. Natalie had picked it up from Clarissa somehow. "How long do you think it would take?"

"Don't stay here on account of this. I imagine he's at work. If I find his home phone, I probably won't get him until this evening. I'll call if I find out anything."

Tom nodded. He shook hands with Warren again and the detective left. Deputy Floyd led them to a desk and brought out the mug books, leading to a fruitless hour as Natalie looked intently at faces, mentally imposing a ski mask on each. None really jumped out at her. Clarence was not among them.

After a night spent with Karen and Kirsten pressed against her on either side, Natalie awoke, and immediately the dark cloud of missing Clarissa descended on her again. She sat up listlessly, expressionlessly, as both girls sucked on her breasts, afterwards sharing their own milk with her. Loyalty to Clarissa's sisters, to anything associated with her at all, made her go through the motions of normal life in the barn -- though not to the point of any sexual play with them. She definitely wasn't up for that, and they knew better than to try.

The only thing that brightened her somewhat was Tom appearing and telling her that Warren had called the previous evening, to tell him that Clarence Newton had agreed to take an hour off from his work at an accounting firm and would answer some questions at the police station at four o'clock. "Warren says he didn't sound too happy, but agreed to come when Warren told him it was strictly voluntary, and that Clarence might be able to help him on a case he was working on. You still want to be there?"

"Yes! Oh, thank you, Master Tom, this really means a lot to me!"

"Me too, Natalie. Anyway, we'll go around three-thirty."

Clarissa awoke, on the morning of her first full day as a dog, with a vague sense of unease. She snuggled against Natalie, and then suddenly realized she was pressed against something much too furry to be Natalie. Memory came flooding back, and she felt crushed by the weight of her loss. Thunder would not have been her first choice to rush to for comfort, but he was there and warm. She buried her face against his chest and cried.

The lights were fully on once more, and it seemed to be growing warmer in the doghouse. Thunder gave a low growl, not seeming directed at her or at anything in particular, and wriggled vaguely.

It occurred to Clarissa she needed to get food before Thunder was fully awake. She carefully untangled herself from him, backed away, and was startled by a yip behind her that told her the puppies had closed in during the night. No doubt they'd be hungry, and her breasts throbbed with milk, but she put priority on her own eating, realizing the opportunities would probably be limited.

As she stood and stretched, a glint of reflected light above her caught her eye. There was a video camera! It was mounted in one of the inside front corners of the doghouse, near the entrance, protected by a clear plastic covering. She gritted her teeth in anger. That asshole! Even in here he was going to be watching her, anytime he wanted. It probably had an infrared lens, so that he could make out her and the dogs in the darkness of night.

Fuming, she stalked out of the doghouse, noticing that it was considerably warmer than when she'd gone in, though still chilly. He had probably begun heating the cell, as she had taken to calling the area in which she was confined, some time before turning the lights on. She sighed. At least he didn't intend for her to be arbitrarily miserable. His manipulations of the environment were aimed purely at getting her to be in certain places at certain times. Another thing she decided not to thank him for. The fact that he could have been making things much worse for her probably only meant he was saving that option for later.

She went straight for the food bowl, replenished its supply and ate quickly, listening for barking that would signal that her mealtime was over.

She heaved a sigh of relief when her hunger was satisfied without interruption, and after taking a long draught from the water bowl, she made herself eat a little more, not sure when she'd be able to again.

She picked out, with her teeth, one particularly large piece of meat relatively unencumbered with the crunchy grain that predominated in the mix, and froze as she chewed it. She had at last been able to identify the taste: it was girlmeat.

She knew every man and woman needed girlmeat -- in school they taught that you should be sure to eat girlmeat at least once a week, preferably more often. There was much more to it, the schoolbooks and magazines all said, than the mere psychological need that childhood conditioning, cynics claimed, had instilled in every person. (And it was generally known that even those cynics still ate it, claiming they "liked the taste.") Girlmeat bolstered the immune system, helped clear the digestive system, improved skin tone, and when you saw someone always feverish, coughing, sniffling, covered with sores and complaining of constant stomach aches, you didn't have to be a doctor to tell him he had a girlmeat deficiency. Tom always mixed ground girlmeat in with their feed every few days, and holidays at the farm were accompanied by plates of barbecued girlmeat slices. And she well remembered the occasional high feasts of her childhood when her family had eaten her mother and her aunts, and more recently, Clarissa's own legs.

Fine, then, Mr. X was, again, looking out for her needs -- that wasn't the problem.

She realized, in horror, that Thunder was eating this same mix. A part of her mind had refused to believe, despite her initial alarm, that she was destined to be eaten by Thunder -- she couldn't imagine Mr. X would be that sick, so uncaring about the laws of society and common decency, that he would let her be eaten by a lower animal.

But here was Thunder's present diet, sitting in front of her and travelling down to her own stomach: girlmeat. She had proof, now, that Mr. X did indeed have no qualms about feeding her to Thunder as well. Thunder eating her was no different from him eating any other woman. She could no longer tell herself that that wasn't going to be her fate.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on keeping her recent meal inside her. Don't be sick, don't be sick, Clarissa, you've got enough trouble getting food as it is. Gradually the wave of nausea passed, and her mind renewed its desperate demand that she find a way out of here.

She heard a low growl behind her, and quickly moved away from the food dish. There was still enough in it to satisfy Thunder. Behind the larger dog, she could see three of the puppies prancing around, sniffing at the ivy along the walls, batting at each other. She hoped they would need her soon. Her breasts felt ready to pop.

While she waited for their hunger to manifest itself, she trotted over to the patch of ground at the side of the doghouse. She had chosen this place because it was as far from the mirror as possible, so that he probably couldn't see marks in the soft dirt from where he was standing. Casually she walked past the area and dragged her left front hoof as she took a step -- one tally mark, to signify one day spent in the cell. Please, she thought, let me find a way out before the entire floor of the cell is nothing but wall-to-wall tally marks.

By late afternoon, Mr. X had not yet put in an appearance. As much as she hated him, she wished he would show up and say something, anything. She felt cut off by the entire human race -- nobody other than Mr. X knew where she was, nor even could be sure she existed, and her entire being seemed limited to satisfying the needs of dogs, either nutritionally or sexually.

She felt an odd restless energy, almost a twitchiness, dominated by a tingling feeling between her hind legs, that she identified as a yearning for Natalie. For the last two months she had never gone so long without some shared intimacy with Natalie -- not necessarily making love, often just laying together, their hips and shoulders rubbing together as they talked. The cruelest part of her captivity was being ripped away from the one she shared her life with.

Thunder had been napping for an hour, and she had just finished eating when she had a sudden feeling of being watched. She jerked her head around to look at the mirror, but no images from the other side were perceptible on it, and she wondered what had happened. Was there some subliminal sound from the door of the observation room opening? A creak as he took a seat? Maybe that was it -- while she was sure the cell was soundproofed as far as the outside world was concerned, she suspected that at least sounds from the observing room could make it through the mirror. She wasn't aware of having heard any, but she felt sure he was there now, and hadn't been earlier.

She felt a strong need to pee, but felt she'd rather not do it while he was watching. Not that she hadn't peed on the sidewalk in front of the general store in town, but this was different. It must be, she thought, that I hate giving him what he wants. If it gives him his kicks to see me living like an animal, then to hell with that.

Like all girlcows, she drew a distinction between animal behavior and girlcow behavior, regardless of any similarities there might be on the surface. Girlcow behavior was, by definition, whatever it was that girlcows normally did. Somehow, it was his perception of her activities that dragged them across the line and made them sub-human.

As these thoughts were running through her head, rekindling her anger towards him, she heard the hum of the carrier signal. Turning back towards the mirror, she saw his ghostly image, through which she could still see the reflection of the doghouse behind her. I was right, she thought. I can tell when he's there. At least I could this time.

"Have you been a good dog today, Sprite?"

She gritted her teeth, knowing better than to make him angry with her denial of the role she was playing for him. "Yes-s." She took deep, slow breaths, trying to suppress her fury.

"I know it takes some getting used to, but you've got time. Eventually you won't even remember any other life."

I'll remember Natalie, she said to herself. I'll remember Tom and Wendy, and my sisters. You're the one who'll go down the garbage disposal of my memory.

She half-turned her head at the thumping sound behind her, but felt Thunder jumping on top of her before she saw him, barely giving her time to shout "Shit!" before he was coupled with her. The sound of his master's voice must have awakened him, and he had awakened horny. She had learned to stand still while he was humping her, not frustrating him, not making him mad as he pounded against her buttocks, his organ invading her between her hind legs in a place only Natalie was welcome to explore. Her mind furiously denied what her body was telling her -- that she needed it, that the twitchy energy she had been feeling was now shouting Yes, right there, don't finish up so fast this time, I'm getting closer... Denied as well that she felt keen frustration as he grunted and jerked against her, filling her pussy with sticky goo that her body had no use for. He strutted away triumphantly, leaving her crying.

She shouted at the phantom image, "Why is he doing that so much??"

The ghost shrugged. "It's all chemical."

"No! That's the fourth time today! You can say whatever you want about confusing him with human female scents, there's no way you made me smell like a bitch in heat. It doesn't make sense that he keeps doing that!"

"Like I said, it's chemical. You'll figure it out." For an instant he glanced to his left, in the direction of the food dish.

She followed his glance, then snapped her head back towards him, her eyes wide. That's why she was feeling horny herself, that tingling between her hind legs! "You asshole! You've been putting something in the food!"

He scowled at her. "I won't let you talk at all if you're going to talk like that. Dogs shouldn't talk anyway, but when they do it should be with respect. Perhaps you need some training."

She froze -- what was he going to do to her now? Muzzle her? How would she eat? She opened her mouth to apologize, then snapped it shut again. Only her silence would tell him she understood the threat.

He waited a moment, then nodded. "Good dog. You must not be an old one, you're still learning some new tricks."

His image suddenly flicked out, and she heard the click of the speaker being turned off. She didn't doubt he would continue watching for awhile, in silence.

Trembling with the knowledge that Thunder's attacks would probably continue at the rate of four or five each day, rather than the previously speculated one or two, she walked slowly over to the litter box, Thunder's seed dribbling stickily down her hind legs. She felt a compulsion to pee, feeling it would at least rinse some of his leavings out of her. As she dribbled into the box, she worried about her own problem with arousal. The tingling in her pussy would probably get worse, as she continued to consume whatever aphrodisiac he was mixing in with the food, and she couldn't think immediately how to relieve it. The only certainty was that, whatever she came up with, it was sure to be humiliating.

A few hours later the lights dimmed, and Thunder and the puppies retreated to the doghouse. Clarissa took advantage of Thunder's absence to get one last meal for the day, shivering as she finished while the air in the cell quickly cooled. With no interest in repeating the previous night's experiment to see if she could spend the night outside, she sighed and entered the doghouse. She soon feel asleep, snuggled up with Thunder as before, trying and failing to imagine he was Natalie.

Natalie followed Tom into the police station, nervously waiting to see if she was about to meet the man who had stolen Clarissa. Warren was standing by the front desk, and invited Tom to come back to his office with him, bringing Natalie along. Tom sat silently, absently stroking Natalie's hair as she sat on her haunches in front of his seat, while Warren looked through file folders and made notes. After five minutes a speaker on Warren's desk told him, in the voice of the desk sergeant, that Mr. Newton was here.

"Send him back."

"Yes, sir."

In a minute there was a tentative knock at the door. On invitation, Clarence opened the door and stood there, uncomfortably shifting his weight from one foot to another.

"Come on in, Mr. Newton. This is Mr. Martin, one of our local farm owners." Natalie was becoming accustomed to the idea that, as a slave, her presence wouldn't normally be acknowledged. Clarence took the one remaining seat in the room. He nodded to Tom, then looked at Natalie with a start of recognition.

Warren, went on, "Mr. Newton, we wanted to ask you a few questions relative to a recent girlcow theft..."

Natalie's eyes were wide, disappointment radiating from her whole face. She had so desperately wanted to believe she had provided a lead that would help them find Clarissa that she hadn't compared her visual memories of Clarence and the cow thief. But as she saw him in the flesh, his diminutive frame having no resemblance to the broad-shouldered man who had snatched Clarissa, she forgot every protocol of slave behavior and burst out, "It wasn't him!"

Everyone in the room looked at her in surprise, Clarence's expression mixed with relief. Warren's eyes narrowed. "You're that sure?"

Natalie nodded forlornly. "The man who took Clarissa was a lot bigger. It couldn't have been... Mr. Newton."

Warren bit his lip. His experience in detective work made him loathe to let a suspect, even an untenable one, leave without at least asking him a few questions. He looked back across his desk at Clarence. "Mr. Newton, I can assure you now that you're not a suspect in our case, but you may still have some information that can help us. The theft occurred two days ago. Do you know of anyone who might have stolen a girlcow at that time?"

Clarence shook his head. "No, sir. I wish I could help, but no." While keeping his head facing towards Warren, his eyes kept wandering to the side, down towards Natalie. He licked his lips nervously.

As he watched Clarence shift in his chair, giving the impression he might be trying to find more room in his pants for a growing erection, it occurred to Warren that, while Clarence wasn't the thief, someone may have stolen Clarissa on his behalf. "I understand you do have some interest in girlcows."

Clarence's face turned beet red. He started to look at Natalie again, then jerked his eyes away. "H-how do you mean?"

Warren disliked being too blunt. "Interest of a... physical nature."

"I... I..." Clarence seemed to realize his body was betraying him, and that suspicion would fall back on him unless he came completely clean. "Well, yes."

"Have you ever tried to obtain a girlcow?"

Clarence shook his head vehemently. "No!"

"Never thought about it?"

Clarence hesitated. Again, he made the decision that candor might be in order. "I, uhhh... went to a girlcow auction recently. But the prices were so high..." He shrugged, reliving his disappointment.

"Well, there are other ways. Ever looked into the possibility of obtaining a stolen one?"

"Oh, no, that would be even more expensive..." He stopped suddenly, his eyes flying open wide.

Warren squinted at him. The market price of a stolen girlcow wasn't something he believed to be general knowledge. People buying the stolen merchandise usually had reasons why they didn't want their possession of the cow recorded in city records, and paid a premium for that assurance. "How do you know that?"

"Oh, I, uhh, read a magazine article in a doctor's office once. It was talking about that."

Natalie had gotten back up on her hooves, and was looking back and forth between Clarence and Warren. She shook her head slightly in response to Warren's nodding his, and gasped as Warren said, "I want to thank you for coming by, Mr. Newton. It wasn't my intention to embarrass you. We had reason to believe you might know something, and I apologize for any difficulty this has caused."

"Am I free to go now?" Clarence's relief radiated from his whole being.

Warren nodded, rose, and held out his hand for Clarence to shake. Natalie couldn't hold back any longer. "Wait, are you just going to let him go?" She looked stunned.

Tom shook her shoulder. "Natalie, stop it."

Warren maintained his patience with her unacceptable behavior. "We don't have any reason to keep him here, Natalie. Even you admit he didn't do it."

She stammered, "But.. but..." as Clarence rose and headed for the door. "Mr. Newton... Clarence... wait! Please?"

He couldn't resist the pleading tone in her voice. He looked down at her, yearningly.

She could see Tom was glaring at her, and even Warren was frowning. "Could you wait out in the front room for a few minutes? For me? Do it for me please?"

Clarence wiped his lips and stood uncertainly. Warren said, "You don't have to do that, Mr. Newton."

Natalie held Clarence's eyes, unable to say more. Hesitantly he nodded. "I'll wait." He left the room, walking awkwardly, closing the door behind him.

She shot an agonized look at Warren, insisting in a tense whisper, "Detective Warren, he was lying! You have to ask him some more questions about..."

Tom gripped her shoulder. "Natalie, there are some things you're just not allowed to do."

Warren said, "It's not so much that, Mr. Martin. There are some things we can't do. Natalie -- Mr. Newton was here voluntarily. He answered our questions, he doesn't seem to have any information to give, and you said he didn't steal Clarissa. We can't just keep badgering a private citizen because we're suspicious."

Natalie's voice shook. "But didn't you see his eyes?"

"What about his eyes?"

"That look on his face! When you asked him if he'd ever wanted to buy a stolen cow, and he said it cost more than getting one at an auction." She went on as Warren looked at her blankly. "He knew he'd said too much! He knew he wasn't supposed to know that, and he shouldn't have said it."

"He could have read it in a magazine, like he said."

"Then what was he scared of? If that's how he knew, he just needed to say that! He didn't have to fly into a panic!"

Warren bit his lip. "He was just nervous because I asked him how he knew. People get intimidated by police detectives asking them questions."

"No, he got scared as soon as he said it! Before you asked him! He knew he shouldn't have said that!" She felt a tugging on her collar, Tom trying to pull her back towards him.

Warren's uncertainty seemed to be growing. "I can't just make him come back here and sit on him until he spills whatever he knows. It's not like I can beat him with a stick. He'll just stay with his story about reading it in a magazine. Next thing you know we're sued for harassment."

Natalie whipped her head back and forth, looking at Tom, looking at Warren, back at Tom. She couldn't believe they could just let this opportunity go. Clarence was probably still waiting out there, because a slave had asked him to -- an unimaginable concession, but useless unless she could persuade Warren to question him again. She didn't have the same power over him that any girlcow would have over Clarence.

Power. The power to make him do what she wanted.

She took a deep breath, as astonished as anyone else in the room about what came out of her mouth next. "Could I... talk to him alone? I mean, totally alone?"

Behind her, Tom seemed to choke. "What?!?" Warren's jaw dropped.

She turned, using everything Clarissa had taught her about handling Tom. Not a word. Just a look. Until his clenched jaw started to falter. She turned back to Warren, less sure how to manage him. "Please?"

Warren looked at her a full thirty seconds. He cleared his throat finally. "Only if he's willing. I can't force him to stay."

She shook her head violently. "It's not about forcing him. He'll be very happy to stay."

She looked behind her. Tom's jaw was now totally slack and hanging. He shook his head to clear it. "So where... I mean..."

She looked up at Warren. "Could we just use your office? Please please please?" She held her breath.

He looked at her, the corners of his mouth twitching. He looked at Tom. "Is this okay with you?"

Tom threw up his hands. "If this will find Clary somehow."

Warren punched his intercom button. "Floyd, is Mr. Newton still out there?"

"Yes, sir. Just sitting here. Do you want me to send him back?"

Before Warren could reply, Natalie whispered, "No, take me out there and I'll bring him back." She turned to Tom. "Okay?"

Tom had completely thrown in the towel. He nodded helplessly.

Warren shrugged, and said into the intercom, "No, no need, we'll be out in a minute." He stood and looked at Tom, who had also arisen from his chair. Warren led the way out of the room, Tom trailing behind him leading Natalie. Natalie sought inside herself for the nervousness she thought she ought to be feeling, and found none. She knew that what she would do in the next half-hour might be crucial to finding Clarissa, but she felt very calm. For the first time in a long time, she felt as if she were in complete control of something.

Clarence jumped to his feet as Warren approached, his eyes looking for Natalie, then twitching away, wishing he could stop thinking about her.

Natalie walked around Tom and looked up at Clarence. She said sweetly, "Mr. Newton, I asked them if you and I could spend a little time alone, and they said okay." She smiled conspiratorially.

Clarence's jaw dropped. He looked at every face in the room, even Floyd's, to see if it was some kind of joke. Could he be dreaming? "Uhhh... sure."

Warren cleared his throat. "This isn't something you have to do, Mr. Newton. You're free to go."

Clarence looked vaguely at Warren, then back at Natalie. "Huh? Oh, no. No problem."

Tom knelt next to her and started to remove her leash. Natalie, never taking her eyes off Clarence, said dreamily, "Oh, Master Tom, you don't need to do that. You could just hand the leash to Mr. Newton. Oh!" as if just remembering something, "Could you take off the nipple clamps? Please?" Her smile directed at Clarence widened slightly.

Tom stared at her, his jaw slack, a full ten seconds, reminding himself that this was all directed at finding his sister. At last he reached under her and unclamped her breasts. She gritted her teeth and winced at the pain as circulation returned to her nipples, then resumed her enthralled gaze at Clarence. Warren coughed, and said in a strangled voice, as if striving to bury a laugh, "Just take her down to my office, Mr. Newton. We'll wait out here." To his left, Floyd dropped the folder he was holding, spilling papers onto the floor, and softly muttered "Shit!" as he stooped to retrieve them. Tom handed the leash to Clarence.

His left fist balled in his front pants pocket to give some cover to his throbbing erection, Clarence walked carefully through the door at the rear and down the short hallway, looking down at Natalie, walking beside him, who was looking up at him. Leading his very own girlcow by a leash! A bizarrely intense deja vu feeling assaulted him -- this was so much like one of his favorite fantasies. As he fumbled with the doorknob, he could see a tiny white circle on the floor under her right nipple. She was dribbling! She followed his gaze and giggled. "This late in the afternoon I'm really kind of full. I hope you don't mind." He tried to speak but managed only a choking squeak, and shook his head emphatically.

Once in Warren's office, he closed the door with a trembling hand, and asked, "W-what did you... want to do?" He was having trouble breathing.

"I just thought I'd like to get to know you a little better, Clarence. Or Master Clarence. Do you mind if I call you that?" Again, he could only manage a head-shake. She went on, "Why don't you sit on the floor, Master Clarence? So I don't have to look so far up to see you?"

He sat quickly, not so much in response to her suggestion, more due to a failure of his legs to support him anymore. Still clutching her leash in his right hand, he waited, sweating, to see what happened next.

She looked at him sympathetically. "You look so hot, Master Clarence. Are you thirsty? Maybe I could help with that."

He was breathing with his mouth wide open, obviously trying not to faint. He nodded.

"Well, you just lay back and let me take care of that."

As he followed her instruction, again due to a seeming inability not to, she walked towards his feet and then, straddling him, walked up along his body. His eyes seemed to grow steadily bigger, nearly to the point of jumping out of their sockets, as she advanced to the point where her breasts were scraping his chin. She whispered, "I know what you want, Master Clarence. You're the master. It all belongs to you."

Both hands shaking, he reached up and tentatively took her left breast and guided the nipple into his mouth. As he began sucking, the tension seemed to go out of him as her milk went into him.

Still whispering, she said, "You've always wanted your own girlcow, haven't you, Master Clarence?"

Still sucking, he nodded and said, "Mmm-hmm."

"You even tried to get a stolen one, didn't you?"

He froze, her breast still filling his mouth. His eyes looked up at her face. She jiggled her breast in his mouth to remind him it was still there. At last, he nodded.

"Can you tell me who you talked to?"

After a long pause, he shook his head.

She pouted prettily and asked, "Why not, Master Clarence?"

His voice muffled by her breast, he said, "I'd get in a lot of trouble."

"Oh, Master Clarence. It wouldn't be you in trouble, it'd be him!"

He shook his head. "He said if I ever told anybody, he'd tell the police I'd tried to hire him to steal a cow. And he'd tell my boss. He knew where I work."

"Is that such a big deal?"

"You don't know my boss! If he found out there was a police report on me... two, in fact! I was stopped once for looking at the cows on a farm. I looked too long, I guess. If he knew the police had a file on me, I'd lose my job!"

Sympathetically, she whispered, "I know that's scary. Drink some more. Relax. Relax..." She let her whisper trail off to nothing, and he started sucking again.

Looking back along her body between her breasts, she smiled as she saw the tent at the top of his trousers. She looked back in his eyes. "Why don't you loosen your pants and give that big guy a little fresh air?"

His face, already flushed, grew still redder. Quickly he reached down, unbuckled and unzipped, and pushed his trousers and underpants down his legs.

She smiled. "There, I know that feels better. Why don't you try my other breast for awhile?"

Obediently, he shifted to her right, as she spread her hind legs apart and let her crotch sink down until her pussy was rubbing the head of his cock. He was actually a little shorter than Natalie had been before her conversion, and there would be no trouble with her coupling with him while he continued milking her. He gasped and lost her nipple for a moment. She cooed at him softly until he relaxed again.

She rubbed his cock a few more seconds, then lifted her crotch slightly so that she lost contact with him, and whispered, "You can tell me his name, can't you?"

Again, his mouth was too full for any more elaborate response than a headshake. Pouting again, she lowered her crotch and brushed against his cock for just a split second, and looked at him reproachfully, expectantly.

Breathing hard, almost hyperventilating, he squeaked, "Oh my, oh my! He was... I hired his... company to... remodel my kitchen. The cupboards were... too small and... I do a lot of cooking... and anyway he saw the prints... my pictures... of girlcows on... my livingroom wall... we got talking about girlcows and... he seemed so understanding, I probably told him more than I should... how much I wanted one of my own... but I was nervous about going to an auction... even if I had that kind of money... everybody at an auction knows all the farmers and... they'd know I wasn't one and... they'd all know why I wanted one and... I just couldn't do that... he said he could... get me one... if I didn't ask where it came from... and nobody would know I had one... and he said he could do it for fifteen thousand... and I told him I could get one for less at an auction... and he said, well, see, you're paying for privacy too, not just... the girlcow... I said I'd just bought the house, and hardly had any equity in it yet, and I asked if I could pay monthly, and he laughed and said it had to be up front... and I said I just couldn't get that kind of money... he smiled and said it was okay, maybe someday... and he was still smiling and said, oh one more thing... if I ever told anybody about this, he'd tell the police it was ME who suggested he try to steal a girlcow... and he was a well-known honest businessman and they'd never believe me... and my boss would know I have a police record..." He stopped suddenly, tears pouring down his cheeks.

"There, there, it's okay, it's okay," she cooed, kissing his wet face, then twisting to put her nipple in his mouth again. She lowered her crotch back down until the head of his cock rubbed her pussy lips, and down still farther, letting him enter her. She wriggled her hips once, then raised up again. She looked at him through half-lidded eyes, her mouth open, and whispered, "What was his name, Master Clarence?"

His eyes glanced down towards her pussy, hanging just out of his cock's reach. "If... if I tell you... will you...?"

She gave him a big smile and nodded.

"And could I... see you again?"

She bit her lip. She wanted to draw the line at making promises she couldn't keep, unless absolutely nothing else worked, and she strongly doubted Tom would let her go out on a "date" with an admitted girlcow fetishist. It had been hard enough getting him to let her alone with Clarence in the middle of a police station. "I promise this much: if you tell me anything that helps us find Clarissa, then you can come to the farm some day and I'll give you as much milk as you want. And I don't mean in a bottle." She knew Tom would go for that much.

His eyes flicked rapidly between her pussy and her breasts. "It's... it's... Karl Gordon! His name is Karl Gordon!"

She beamed at him. "Thank you, Master Clarence, that was SO sweet of you." She let her pussy down slowly, taking him inside her, inch by inch, and kissing him, licking her own milk off his lips, pushing her tongue into his mouth. In thirty seconds he came like a gusher.